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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27401677">A Mid-Polar Night's Dream</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadsparties/pseuds/sadsparties'>sadsparties</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Terror (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Amateur Stage Productions, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Public Display of Affection, References to Shakespeare, Theater Comedy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:36:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,175</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27401677</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadsparties/pseuds/sadsparties</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What if instead of Carnivale, there was the Royal Arctic Theatre of 1848? A comedy in three acts.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Captain Francis Crozier/Commander James Fitzjames</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Fall Fitzier Exchange</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/jk_rockin/gifts">jk_rockin</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>*bernie meme* i once again have no idea what i’m doing. i claim absolutely no expertise in billy shakes and his wordsmithing. just enjoy my paltry attempts at rhyming, folks! the prompts i used are: shipboard theatricals and bonding over books. </p><p><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/jk_rockin/profile">jk_rockin</a> this may not have been what you expected, but i hope you like it!</p><p>a quick thank you to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/icicaille/profile">corinthes</a> for assuring me that i wasn’t crazy and giving me an idea for chapter three.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">CHARACTERS</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div class="letter">
  <p>JAMES, captain of Erebus<br/>FRANCIS RAWDON MOIRA CROZIER, captain of Terror</p>
  <p>JOPSON, steward<br/>LITTLE, lieutenant in Terror<br/>LE VESCONTE, lieutenant in Erebus<br/>BLANKY, ice master<br/>McDONALD, surgeon<br/>TOZER, royal marine<br/>CHAMBERS, ship’s boy<br/>PEGLAR, petty officer</p>
  <p>Mate<br/>Men and officers of the ships</p>
</div><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p> </p><p>ACT 1</p><p> </p><p>Scene 1</p><p>
  <em>Deck of Erebus. Enter James, Le Vesconte, and others.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>JAMES: Now, Dundy, the sun approaches and our celebration draws near. A week away now and our days of endless night give way to joyful morning, when this field of ice becomes stage to a land of more south easterly clime. Our ships may be moored but our spirits take flight. How goes our preparations?</p><p>LE VESCONTE: In order, captain. The backdrop is painted and Mister Collins reports that we have just enough sail for the drapery. Tomorrow we will proceed with the final fittings of the costumes.</p><p>JAMES: And the cast? I have heard mention that some are unwilling.</p><p>LE VESCONTE: Such mentions are unfounded, sir. Just this very morning I found volunteers for our crucial parts. The role of Hermia is claimed by George Chambers, rosy cheeked and full of hair; while the role of Helena has been claimed by Lieutenant Irving of Terror. By your leave, sir, I shall take the role of the fairy king Oberon, while my queen will be Doctor Stanley of the sickbay. Of the playful and wily Robin Goodfellow, I have had a more tricky search, but a friendly whisper from your steward led me to Henry Peglar from Terror, and I found him most keen and ready. </p><p>JAMES: Well done, Dundy. My trust in you in these matters has not been found wanting. Have there been any concerns from the men?</p><p>LE VESCONTE: For the play, none but fervour. For our captain, many.</p><p>JAMES: What concerns are these?</p><p>LE VESCONTE: Grim ones, sir, and most disturbing. I have heard whispers in the mess that falter when I pass, fearful notions that when left alone will grow into crisis. The men are afeared of Captain Crozier’s illness and wonder if he will follow in the footsteps of our dear Sir John.</p><p>JAMES: Disturbing indeed if such rot is left to fester. Go and put forth that there is nothing to inspire alarm. In my last visit to him, I saw our captain still with all his buttons on, and even the physic cries astonishment at his resilience. With God’s grace, he will recover in time to join us in our merriment—that’s what you tell the men.</p><p>
  <em> Le Vesconte exits.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Enter Little. </em>
</p><p>JAMES: Good evening, Lieutenant. What brings you to Erebus?</p><p>LITTLE: Sir, you told me to report anything like this if it happened, and it has. Last night after you left Terror, Captain Crozier suffered a seizure.</p><p>JAMES: My God!</p><p>LITTLE: I was on watch when it happened and heard none but the howl of the freezing wind. By Doctor McDonald’s account it had been a very near thing, but now that the captain is through it, the worst has passed. I stayed with him last night, sir, to give Mister Jopson a spell, and in the captain’s sleep, I heard him call out. Sir John! Sir John! he cried, and when I laid a hand on his shoulder he fell into deeper sleep.</p><p>JAMES: [ <em>Aside </em>] Francis cries out in his sleep? How is it that in all my visits he had never done so? To think that I knock along pleasantly here, whilst a half mile from me, Francis suffers twice over—first from sickness and now from grief. This tiding is like a black mark on my heart, heavy and lead-like, for I cannot help but feel that this newest ordeal is by my inducement. Would that I could visit him now to bring him comfort, but though his chamber was privy to me once, our last parting revoked all future welcome.</p><p>JAMES: Well met, Lieutenant, and I thank you for your report. That was a fine portrayal you just made—I hope you harness it in your performance. Have you chosen a costume?</p><p>LITTLE: I let the men have our trunk.</p><p>JAMES: Don’t wait until the best ones are snapped up. Our captain performed in this very play, did you know?</p><p>LITTLE: I confess my imagination is not built for such fancies.</p><p>JAMES: True. ‘Tis why I chose the piece. He played the minor role of the bellows-mender, Mister Flute. Sir William Parry was Oberon and Sir James Ross was Hermia. </p><p>LITTLE: You have sketched out the fancy, sir, but I still cannot imagine it. </p><p>JAMES: No matter. It is not your whimsy I require but your attention in rehearsals. Do practice your lines with Irving when you have the time. I am sure it will be no trouble to lay eyes on him as you would your lady love.</p><p>LITTLE: I will make the attempt, sir.</p><p>
  <em> Little exits. </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Scene 2</p><p>
  <em> Deck of Erebus. Enter James, Chambers, and Tozer.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>CHAMBERS, <em> as Hermia</em>:<br/>[Farewell, sweet playfellow. Pray thou for us,<br/>And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius. —<br/>Keep word, Lysander. We must starve our sight<br/>From lover’s food till morrow deep midnight.]</p><p>TOZER, <em>as Lysander</em>: <b><br/></b>[I will, my hernia.]</p><p>JAMES: Hermia!</p><p>TOZER, <em> as Lysander</em>:<br/>[I will, my Hermia.<br/>Helena, adieu.<br/>As you on him, Demetrius dote on you.]</p><p>
  <em> Enter Blanky. </em>
</p><p>JAMES: Mister Blanky, your cheerful jaunt is a welcome sight.</p><p>BLANKY: Good morning, Captain. How goes your rehearsal?</p><p>JAMES: [ <em>to Tozer and Chambers </em>] Rehearse yourselves for a while, gentlemen. [ <em>As they leave </em>] I am working with ninnies.</p><p>BLANKY: Ha! You must harden your heart, sir, if you think that all sailors are as gifted on the stage as you. It is discipline that this exercise cultivates, not talent. Once they go out in sledge parties, the men must work together and make the best of their supplies, just as they make do with what sail we have for props. </p><p>JAMES: How soon I forget that you once contended with long winter sojourns. Have you ever performed in a play before?</p><p>BLANKY: None, despite my raring, and your overture is well noted. Sir John Ross ran his crew like a cloister, and if there was any chance of fun, his nephew first ensured that he was well in his sleep. All talk of plays I have only heard from Francis, which is what brings me here. </p><p>CHAMBERS: Pardon me, sir, but this will not do.</p><p>JAMES: What is it, George?</p><p>CHAMBERS: I beg forgiveness if my eyes do deceive, but when last I looked upon the script of this play, Hermia and Lysander were well in love.</p><p>JAMES: They are, your point?</p><p>CHAMBERS: My point is that the sergeant would rather stab me with a point than take me in his arms as a lover would. I cannot place myself near him without his looking to do me a treat.</p><p>JAMES: Come now, Sergeant Tozer. You need not fear anything from George. He is a distinct daisy and hitherto meek as sheep.</p><p>TOZER: If you would allow it, sir, I would rather than lover be a fairy. Or even an ass.</p><p>JAMES: I confess this request puzzles me. Sergeant, by the will of the crew you were elected as lover in our last assembly. To hand the role to another would cause the men the greatest disappointment. I am afraid you must grin and bear it, my good man, for with you lies the reputation of the Royal Marines.</p><p>TOZER: If it is as you say, then I will do it for my fellows. And let it not be said that we marines make foul volunteers, and harp on about it we do not.</p><p>
  <em> Tozer and Chambers exit. </em>
</p><p>BLANKY: That was well-handled. </p><p>JAMES: From you, that is the zenith of compliments, Mister Blanky.</p><p>BLANKY: Now if you can tidy over a rift like that, then you can well settle your barney with Francis. You have not stepped on Terror in seven days, not since you screamed six-cornered abuse at each other in his cabin. Such was your outrage that I felt the walls quake.</p><p>JAMES: It is not in my interest to deny it, Mister Blanky, that Francis and I did disagree on a certain matter. Believe me when I say that I would like to make amends, but our fight was fierce and I am ashamed that I said much to hurt him.</p><p>BLANKY: It cannot be so unequal from the wrongs he has dealt you over the years. I know Francis and am certain, as certain as I am of my dear Esther’s nightly vigour, that he suffers from this as much as you. You have trusted my counsel in your reverie; I ask you now to hear me in this. If we’re going to walk out of here ourselves, you need to understand that our two ships need their captains in accord.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Scene 3</p><p>
  <em> Great Cabin of Terror. Enter James and Jopson.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>JOPSON: Captain Fitzjames—these quarters were cold in your absence; I had not expected you to ever return.</p><p>JAMES: At ease, Jopson. I mean him no harm. How does our dear captain fare?</p><p>JOPSON: Had you asked last week I would have given you a very different answer, sir, but he is better now and on the mend. Doctor McDonald gives him a few more days yet before he is recovered enough to earn back his pistol.</p><p>JAMES: I am relieved to hear it. From Little’s report, it seemed a grave thing. Though I would think anything grave were it to come from Little’s upturned mouth.</p><p>JOPSON: I assure you, sir, that for a time we thought it fatal.</p><p>JAMES: Jopson?</p><p>JOPSON: Yes, Captain?</p><p>JAMES: Has Francis asked for me at all?</p><p>JOPSON: No, sir. He has little thought for anything else what with being clean tuckered out. All his energy is devoted to the sickness, which sends him ghosts to battle as he lies abed. There is not a day where he is not moaning and whimpering from his aches and visions. I cannot make sense of his ravings. </p><p>JAMES: That is indeed dreadful to hear, but if it is as you say, then the silence now from his cabin relieves me. Were I to not disturb his rest, I would step in and fight his demons with him.</p><p>JOPSON: Very good, sir.</p><p>JAMES: The doctor?</p><p>JOPSON: No, I mean, very—well said, sir.</p><p>JAMES: If you say so. Oblige me then, Jopson. Here is the script that I was reading to Francis last week to help him sleep. If you would be so kind as to finish in my stead. </p><p>JOPSON: I’m afraid I cannot fulfill this order, sir. Since he went on the aeger, the captain has been averse to any kind of noise. The shifting of the wood irks him, and even the dancing light of the taper makes his head ache. Once, he woke complaining of feral screams and begging for peace, and when I pried further I discovered that it was naught but a draft from the stern windows. </p><p>JAMES: I see.</p><p>JOPSON: At last, sir.</p><p>JAMES: Please just pass this on to him then. He may desire to read it on his own or not, but it will be up to him to finish the tale. I hope—I hope he does.</p><p>JOPSON: [ <em>Taking the book </em>] Very good, sir.</p><p>JAMES: Harry? He is rehearsing, I think.</p><p>JOPSON: No. Never mind, sir. </p><p>
  <em> James exits.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>ACT 2</p><p> </p><p>Scene 1</p><p>
  <em>Captain’s Cabin in Terror. Francis Rawdon Moira Crozier is abed. Enter James. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>FRANCIS: [ <em> Waking </em>] Have I died and gone to heaven? But methinks I would venture the other way if I died. James, what happened to my steward?</p><p>JAMES: Good evening, Francis. Your loyal steward is asleep. Do not worry for I am only here to grant him the rest he richly deserves. How do you feel?</p><p>FRANCIS: Like Christ, but with more nails.</p><p>JAMES: You do not look it at all.</p><p>FRANCIS: It’s the first signs, this, and the worst is yet to come. Here, see how my hand tremors. It greets me like a friend I once bid good riddance.</p><p>JAMES: It started on your journey south, you mean. I have read many versions but yours I have yet to hear.</p><p>FRANCIS: Maybe one day I shall indulge you. But my mood is not ripe for the telling of tales. What have you got there?</p><p>JAMES: Ah, these books are potential scripts for our latest endeavour. A hundred men in one ship are inclined to all sorts of notions, and on your Blanky’s quiff we are putting up a production to keep their minds occupied. I pulled these out from the library to see which seemed apt.</p><p>FRANCIS: Let us hear it then, that we may choose together. </p><p>JAMES: Francis, had I known that illness would lead us to agree, I would have shoved you down the hatch to hasten the effect.</p><p>FRANCIS: Now, James, don’t push it.</p><p>JAMES: A tease, my dear, now let me choose a good passage. Here is one. </p><p>[This man hath bewitched the bosom of my child. —<br/>Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes<br/>And interchanged love tokens with my child.<br/>Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung<br/>With feigning voice verses of feigning love.] </p><p>Rather dramatic, this Egeus. </p><p>[With cunning hast thou filched my daughter’s heart,<br/>Turned her obedience which is due to me<br/>To stubborn harshness.] </p><p>FRANCIS: Hmm, a curious choice.</p><p>JAMES: You disapprove?</p><p>FRANCIS: No, no, a comedy will do the men good and give them a pie of a time. Forgive me if I do not count myself one in their fervour. You need only to look at me to know that my life is a tragedy. If it is a comedy, then it is of the most cruel kind.</p><p>JAMES: Morbing again. Francis, if your life is a comedy then you must be at ease, for any trial in a comedy is only but temporary. And if you will survive this particular predicament, then I am doubly assured that under your leadership we will walk out of here intact.</p><p>FRANCIS: Walk out—you have decided then?</p><p>JAMES: That is up to you, Captain. </p><p>FRANCIS: I cannot help but feel your faith misplaced.</p><p>JAMES: If your step falters from the weight then I shall lend you my shoulder, like Simon.</p><p>FRANCIS: You would do better to squeeze an enchanted flower over my eyes. As it happens, we put up this particular tale in ‘21. It was too cold for a masquerade so a production was endeavoured instead. Sir James Ross was Hermia, so eager to play it well under Captain Parry’s careful watch. I played the bellows-mender Francis Flute.</p><p>JAMES: Then you played Thisbe as well! That must have been a sight to see, you in your mantle. Did the men laugh much?</p><p>FRANCIS: All too much. But it was laughter long missed and that was what counted.</p><p>
  <em> Enter McDonald. </em>
</p><p>McDONALD: Good evening, Captain Fitzjames. Of all, I had not expected to see you here.</p><p>JAMES: I confess I may have overstayed. Captain Crozier must be weary of my company.</p><p>FRANCIS: Not at all.</p><p>McDONALD: If you would, sir, it is time I take measure of your heart.</p><p>JAMES: I should wriggle off then— </p><p>FRANCIS: James— </p><p>JAMES: —and return tomorrow, as soon as able. The sweetest of dreams, Francis.</p><p>
  <em> James exits. </em>
</p><p>McDONALD: I would rub the frown from your face, Captain. Tomorrow is but hours away.</p><p>FRANCIS: Hours that lengthen eternal, it seems.</p><p>McDONALD: Only if you spend it in sadness. In my experience, anticipation turns the clock twice as fast, and before you know it, a face you had seen in retreat is returned over the span of a conversation. </p><p>FRANCIS: Maybe for you, Doctor. I have had much practice with waiting, and overtime, the taste only grew more bitter.</p><p>McDONALD: Most cures are bitter. Mayhaps your delays are a balm yet to take effect. </p><p>FRANCIS: Well now, I am hardly keen on sanguine advice, but if it is from a doctor I must take heed. Do you swear it?</p><p>McDONALD: Upon my nave all the way to my chops.</p><p>
  <em> Enter James, in theatrical costume. </em>
</p><p>McDONALD: You see?</p><p>JAMES: Good morning. I have rejoined you, as promised.</p><p>McDONALD: And in most rousing garb.</p><p>JAMES: What is the matter?</p><p>FRANCIS: James, what is the matter is that your clothes do not have enough matter to claim decency. What do you think you’re doing, nearly in Adam and Eve’s togs? The hem of that tunic barely covers your thighs, and you’ve let your overcoat open in this weather. Are we to have one more captain lost to the cold?</p><p>JAMES: Peace, Francis. This is no beggar’s robe but an Athenian’s.</p><p>FRANCIS: Explain.</p><p>JAMES: Costume fittings for the play have begun. We had thought to let the actors come as they are at first, but it turns out that among your Terrors is a master at the cage crinoline by name of Mister Morfin. He was mad as hops about it, and so eager for the undertaking that he made one too many costumes for Lysander, as you see. This particular piece is too frumpy for the stage, but I thought to wear it once before we turn it into drapery — Francis? Has your illness taken a bad turn? You are red in the face.</p><p>FRANCIS: I think I have developed a fever, and dizziness too. </p><p>McDONALD: I will have Jopson put some ice over your head.</p><p>
  <em> McDonald exits. </em>
</p><p>FRANCIS: You know, it suits you.</p><p>JAMES: The costume?</p><p>FRANCIS: No, directing. Though now that you mention it, the tunic as well. Had there been another fellow capable of directing, there is no doubt that you would have commanded the stage. I can imagine you as Nick Bottom.</p><p>JAMES: Francis, I hope you’re not saying that because you think me an ass.</p><p>FRANCIS: Be at ease, James. I mean it in the best of ways. Bottom may have been treated like a fool, but in the end they said that none could play Pyramus as well as he, that he had [the best wit of any handicraftman] and that he was [a very paragon for a sweet voice].</p><p>JAMES: What tongue! I will hear more.</p><p>FRANCIS: It is decades ago but I still remember the lines. Bottom played Pyramus, whom Thisbe called [most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue, of color like the red rose on triumphant brier].</p><p>JAMES: Francis, I think we may make a Lysander of you yet. Such blarney was what earned him Hermia’s devotion. What will you say next? That I have [cherry lips] and [yellow cowslip cheeks]?</p><p>FRANCIS: If your cheek is yellow, it must be from the blow I dealt you. I am sorry for that, James.</p><p>JAMES: You need not worry, I assure you. I managed to deflect most of it and the bruise is nearly gone. Here, you may appraise it yourself. [ <em> Pressing Francis’s hand to his cheek </em>] Barely a mark now. Do you see?</p><p>FRANCIS: I can’t in this horrid light. </p><p>JAMES: [ <em> Nearing </em>] And now?</p><p>FRANCIS: I do see it. It’s odd to feel bone under my thumb when your cheeks look soft in this light.</p><p>JAMES: More sweet words! I just might let you belt me again if this is the reward. But Francis, I feel your fever in my skin. Are you certain I should be visiting?</p><p>
  <em> Enter Jopson. </em>
</p><p>JOPSON: Sorry to interrupt, sirs. Doctor McDonald asked me to fetch some ice.</p><p>FRANCIS: Good lad. Put that pack on my head for I feel heat blowing from my ears.</p><p>JAMES: Give it to me, Jopson, and I shall hold it steady. You may attend to your other duties.</p><p>JOPSON: [ <em> Aside </em> ]<br/>Thus I have been spared mercifully<br/>From sight ‘twould make e’en beehives sickly.<br/>You may wonder exactly how<br/>This tender scene could devolve now<br/>To frayed relations ‘tween our captains.<br/>I remind you then: a man’s demons,<br/>When unleashed, could easily spoil<br/>Young buds that bloomed from careful toil,<br/>And blue roses that could have grown hath<br/>Been stomped afoot in the aftermath.<br/>Let us not delay then. Come see<br/>How on third day it came to be.</p><p>
  <em> Jopson exits. </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Scene 2</p><p>
  <em> Captain’s Cabin in Terror. Francis Rawdon Moira Crozier is abed. Enter James. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>FRANCIS: I am afraid I will be terrible company today, James. I’m sweating dennis and not up to Dick.</p><p>JAMES: Say no more, Francis. I’ve grown used to you getting your shutters up. Let me read to you then, so you may settle into sleep. </p><p>[Ay, in the temple, in the town, the field,<br/>You do me mischief. Fie, Demetrius!<br/>Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex.<br/>We cannot fight for love as men may do.<br/>We should be wooed and were not made to woo.<br/>I’ll follow thee and make a heaven of hell<br/>To die upon the hand I love so well!]</p><p>FRANCIS: How well you read. Did I not say that you are wasted as director, James? </p><p>JAMES: I recall you casting me as Nick Bottom, but now you claim I can be Helena. Which is it then, Francis? If I am to play all the parts I suppose I really must be Bottom. </p><p>FRANCIS: Pah. I meant that you can choose any which part and render it well. That is all, James. But now that you have spoken in Helena’s voice, I am reminded that her role was almost mine.</p><p>JAMES: How do you mean?</p><p>FRANCIS: Sir James Ross asked me to take the role, knowing that our friendship would show itself on stage if we were Hermia and Helena. But I refused to play a character who wondered at their lack when stood next to someone like Ross. That much was plain. </p><p>JAMES: Helena seems a fine enough woman, willful and independent.</p><p>FRANCIS: She overreaches. She seeks what has already been denied to her.</p><p>JAMES: I confess this reason takes me by surprise.</p><p>FRANCIS: What did you say?</p><p>JAMES: I intend no offense—</p><p>FRANCIS: No, go on.</p><p>JAMES: I only mean that I expected you to relate to her, not spurn her. You yourself are here on your own persistence.</p><p>FRANCIS: You need not brandish how pathetic I am, James. I know it well enough, and every morning I wake to the clarity that I am neither sought nor loved. Do you think I do not pierce through the veil of your visits? You said it so on the first day: [Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung with feigning voice verses of feigning love.] I admit I am sadly alone, and for want of company pretended that you do not visit me out of pity.</p><p>JAMES: Goodness, Francis. You could not be more incorrect.</p><p>FRANCIS: And now you sell me a dog. Dismiss.</p><p>JAMES: What?</p><p>FRANCIS: We are done here.</p><p>JAMES: We are not. Francis, do not be difficult. I am trying to be your friend and you simply will not let me!</p><p>FRANCIS: Friends? Is that what we have been? You have no friends, James.</p><p>JAMES: Dundy is my friend!</p><p>FRANCIS: False. Le Vesconte is not your friend but your admirer. If he relishes your company, it is only because he serves at your command. And you ought not call him Dundy; you’re not children anymore.</p><p>JAMES: What, I suppose you told Sir James to stop calling you ‘Frank’ then?</p><p>FRANCIS: Do not involve him here.</p><p>JAMES: Perhaps the friendless one here is you, Francis. You are a raft alone at sea and instead of looking inward, you blame the world for it. Even now when you are sick and spoilt, your rank demands my yielding. Well, I will not have it, Francis! There is a limit to my tolerance and that is where we are presently!</p><p>FRANCIS: Oh, bad cess to ye, ye poltroon! You cannot even use your own insults. I know those arrows and they are not yours. You would dare invoke his words now? Quarrel it might be, but that meeting was our last… </p><p>JAMES: What? Oh. Francis, no. Strike me pink—I would not use his memory against you.</p><p>FRANCIS: And yet you have. Leave me be, James. I am tired and my head aches.</p><p>JAMES: Francis, I said it in anger and it was ill-considered.</p><p>FRANCIS: Please go away.</p><p>JAMES: Francis… </p><p>FRANCIS: [ <em>T</em><em>urning away </em>] I am out of words for you.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>ACT 3</p><p> </p><p>Scene 1</p><p>
  <em> Great Cabin in Terror. Francis Rawdon Moira Crozier is on the seat of ease. Enter Jopson. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>JOPSON: I didn’t hear the bell, sir.</p><p>FRANCIS: A wonder, Jopson, when it sounds as though there’s no one onboard. What is that you place on the table?</p><p>JOPSON: Your dinner, sir. And a message from Captain Fitzjames. He bid me to give you the script to the theatrical production yonder at Erebus. We have just a single watch tonight. Everyone else is attending.</p><p>FRANCIS: The script? Whatever for when I know how it ends? [ <em> Flipping through the pages </em>] Mash that, what passage is this that James would note thrice over with graphite? </p><p>[You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant!<br/>
But yet you draw not iron, for my heart<br/>
Is true as steel.] </p><p>And here, near the end. The words have been lined so thoroughly that it leaves its mark three pages onward: </p><p>[But like a sickness did I loathe this food.<br/>
But, as in health, come to my natural taste,<br/>
Now I do wish it, love it, long for it,<br/>
And will forevermore be true to it.]</p><p>Did he say more—the captain, Fitzjames?</p><p>JOPSON: Not much, sir. Only that it is of import that you continue where he left off and finish. He is very keen that you do, sir.</p><p>FRANCIS: [ <em> Aside </em>] Such weighty verses. Can it be that James... no. I must guard against such notions for they bring nothing but sorrow. But already, like a fool, I regard the joy from considering, greater than the risk of suffering. Perhaps this passage is not at all what it seems. Perhaps he only seeks my approval as he did Sir John’s. After all, [like a sickness] did he despise me, but now that there is no one else to give him the favour he seeks, he must content himself with mine, worthless though it is.</p><p>JOPSON: [ <em> Aside </em>] Lord, what fools these captains be.</p><p>FRANCIS: [ <em> Aside </em>] Too long I have steeped in my desire, always denied, that to even hope for a return is the gamble of a child—when he, caught entranced by a candle, reaches out for perchance this time he will surface unstung. [Miserable most, to love unloved!]</p><p>Radiant, proud, lovely James. He sat at my bedside and wooed me with his words. Fierce, furious, inscrutable James! He sends me this message, but what it means I must not assume. I am near madness with wondering and there is only one remedy.</p><p>FRANCIS: Dear boy, borrow a shotgun off somebody on watch. I shall eat whatever that is on your tray, make sure it stays put, then you will assist me to don my slops.</p><p>JOPSON: At once, sir.</p><p>FRANCIS: Do bring that canary robe that was once gifted to me. We may have a need for it.</p><p>
  <em> Jopson exits. </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Scene 2</p><p>
  <em> Deck of Erebus. All but James enter. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>LITTLE, <em> as Demetrius</em>:<br/>
[Relent, sweet Hermia, and Lysander, yield<br/>
Thy crazed title to my certain right.]</p><p>TOZER, <em> as Lysander</em>:<br/>
[You have her father’s love, Demetrius.<br/>
Let me have Hermia’s. Do you marry him.]</p><p>JOPSON: We have arrived just in time, sir, and have not missed much. See there, the lieutenant and sergeant look well at odds.</p><p>FRANCIS: I do not have your eyes, Jopson, but Lieutenant Little does not look well at all. Have you seen James?</p><p>JOPSON: Not at the moment, but bid me a while and I shall have an answer.</p><p>PEGLAR, <em> as Robin</em>:<br/>
[Thou speakest aright.<br/>
I am that merry wanderer of the night.<br/>
I jest to Oberon and make him smile<br/>
When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,<br/>
Neighing in likeness of a filly foal.]</p><p>JOPSON: Pardon me, sir, but I have heard tell that none have seen Captain Fitzjames since his bid for a good evening. He is usually to be seen at the wings feeding lines to the cast, but tonight the sides are empty of his guiding voice.</p><p>MATE: Excuse me, sir.</p><p>FRANCIS: If you’ve nothing useful to say, pray be silent.</p><p>MATE: If it is Captain Fitzjames you seek, then he is backstage licking into shape to play the fairy queen. Doctor Stanley had done himself an injury in the dress rehearsal, and since none knew the lines as well as the captain, only he could step forth. I saw him an hour ago, sir, fitting the costume red as cherries, and he, being blessed with lesser height, struggled with the high slit.</p><p>
  <em> Enter James on stage. </em>
</p><p>JAMES, <em> as Titania</em>:<br/>
[What, jealous Oberon? Fairies, skip hence.<br/>
I have forsworn his bed and company.]</p><p>FRANCIS: Saints preserve me, that is high indeed.</p><p>LE VESCONTE,<em> as Oberon</em>:<br/>
[I do but beg a little changeling boy<br/>
To be my henchman.]</p><p>JAMES, <em> as Titania</em>:<br/>
[Set your heart at rest:<br/>
The Fairyland buys not the child of me.<br/>
His mother was a vot’ress of my order.<br/>
But she, being mortal, of the boy did die,<br/>
And for her sake do I rear up her boy,<br/>
And for her sake I will not part with him!]</p><p>FRANCIS: He performs as I envisioned, a goddess in every part. But is he to lie there asleep as the scenes progress? The hammock cannot be terribly comfortable, and to hang from the yards is a danger unwarranted.</p><p>JOPSON: That is a very fine leg he drapes though.</p><p>MATE: Aye, and the train of his dress makes a stirring effect.</p><p>BLANKY, <em> as Bottom</em>:<br/>
[I see their knavery. This is to make an ass of<br/>
Me, to fright me, if they could. But I will not stir<br/>
From this place, do what they can!]</p><p>FRANCIS: I had always known that Thomas would take to the stage well.</p><p>JOPSON: It seems to me that the stage is taking to him — Where are you going, Captain?</p><p>FRANCIS: At ease, Jopson. Someone once told me that I had a penchant for dramatic opening shots, and this next bit I must do alone. Hand me that robe, and when the moment comes I will count on your quick wit.</p><p>
  <em> Francis exits. </em>
</p><p>PEGLAR, <em> as Robin</em>:<br/>
[Now the hungry lion roars,<br/>
And the wolf behowls the moon<br/>
Whilst the heavy plowman snores.<br/>
I am sent with broom before<br/>
To sweep the dust behind the door.]</p><p>
  <em> Enter Francis and James on stage. </em>
</p><p>JAMES: Francis? What on earth—</p><p>JOPSON: A-ha! I am not fooled!</p><p>MATE: Lieutenant, aren’t you supposed to be on stage?</p><p>LE VESCONTE: I was, but I’ve just been awarded full reign of the pantry.</p><p>JOPSON: [ <em> Climbing the stage </em>] Though he has dyed his hair, and, uhm, adopts a disguise, my eyes do not lie! For it is he! The Lord Oberon!</p><p>
  <em> Gasps of surprise. </em>
</p><p>JOPSON: See his proud robe, golden as the sun! Our king has come in another form to test those of us who know him only by his shape and not his nature. Isn’t that right, Robin Goodfellow?</p><p>PEGLAR: Oh, uh, yes! The cap—our king hath prepared an address to end the night. See the book from which he will read. It is, erm, a fine book it is.</p><p>FRANCIS: Rightly so. This address… is for the fair Titania. I have a question for you—will you hear me out?</p><p>JAMES: I must say my intrigue scales heavier than my shock. Go on.</p><p>MATE: Is my memory in error or are these lines changed?</p><p>LE VESCONTE: ‘Tis the right lines, good fellow, but from a newer edition.</p><p>FRANCIS: [ <em> Pretending to read </em>] My queen… my dearest queen, at the start of this tale we already had forsworn each other, but allow me to acquaint this gathering with the true beginning from whence we met. Our first encounter was under a February moon. I remember clearly the cool nightly air, and the festivities beyond which I attempted to abstain. You were surrounded by your friends, and true friends they were, and in the bosom of that busy revelry all sound snuffed to silence as I sighted you.</p><p>JAMES: Is this possible?</p><p>FRANCIS: The chatter died away like music from a departing troupe, and I heard only the melody of your laughter as you reared your head in joy. I was a different man then, fresh from a heartly hurt, and so I’d given you the cold shake and forced myself to view you with tinted eyes, seeing nothing but your faults and none that made you lovely in that Somerset night.</p><p>I may be the king in this realm, but I know well enough that I hold reign by necessity, not love. I have suffered many whips and scorns, and when you offered your friendship, my heart grew black with suspicion. I thought then: how could someone as sublime as you bear to be in the same room as I, when my mere presence casts pretty things in wretched shadow? So I turned you away, and in my blind fury, sent you off with cruel claims. </p><p>But J—Titania, in so few days I grew to cherish your fellowship, and now, having been apart from it, long for it more than I ever knew possible. If a soul could be ill as would a body, your voice has become my remedy. And each word from you, each ringing chuckle, is a tonic to my spirit. So long as I have your company, what does it matter that you do not love me as I wish you would? I do not hold hope that you do, and I do not beg for much of it. I think if you will but look at me occasionally with lover’s eyes, I will be content. Thus I must ask, dearest, even if I have not a feather to fly with: do you think you can come to love me? </p><p>JAMES: Oh. Oh, you fool! You fool!</p><p>FRANCIS: I know. I beg your leave then.</p><p>JAMES: Oh, you great, big ninny! How come you to be asking if I can when I already do!</p><p>FRANCIS: Huh?</p><p>JAMES: I do! Do not ask me how. All I know is that one day I woke as if a charmed flower had been pressed to my eyes. Everything was brighter, more vibrant, and none as radiant as you when I first saw you heaving onto a bucket. At that moment, a great hunger grew in me, such that could not be sated by drink or any lavish breakfast, but only by the mere sight of that ridiculous gap in your teeth and the thought of how it would feel against mine. Is that absurd of me? Undoubtedly. But so much of this business of love is absurd. And I do love you.</p><p>FRANCIS: [ <em> To James </em>] James, had I known that my retching would make you love me, I would have eaten more of Lady Jane’s pudding.</p><p>JAMES: Is that what you fixate on? You are impossible!</p><p>MATE: What new edition is this? I must read it.</p><p>LE VESCONTE: I’m afraid the captain has our only copy…</p><p>JAMES, <em> as Titania</em>:<br/>
Come, my Oberon, and join me hence<br/>
To bless these lovers in recompense.<br/>
Lift thy head and thy lovely face.<br/>
Our kiss shall seal this godly grace.</p><p>
  <em> They kiss. The crew cheers. </em>
</p><p>FRANCIS: [ <em> To James </em>] You anoint me with your lips but I feel that I must hear it again. James, do you love me?</p><p>JAMES: [ <em>To Francis</em> ] Be fair, Francis, have I not said so? Between us, it is you who have yet to make the claim.</p><p>FRANCIS: [ <em> To James </em>] What do you ask then?</p><p>JAMES: [ To Francis ] A simple question: Francis Crozier, do you love me?</p><p>FRANCIS: [ <em> To James </em>] Gods help me but I do, James, so much that I do not have the words for it. Even now that I hold you in my arms, I cannot shake the feeling that this is all but a dream. Is it, James? It’s too good to be true.</p><p>JAMES: [ <em> To Francis </em>] If this is a dream, then it is of the sweetest kind. Come away and let us to sleep, my love, and leave the men to their benjo.</p><p>
  <em> They link arms and exit. </em>
</p><p>JOPSON:<br/>
[If we shadows…]</p><p>PEGLAR, <em> as Robin</em>: Oh! </p><p>[If we shadows have offended,<br/>
Think but this and all is mended:<br/>
That you have but slumbered here<br/>
While these visions did appear...] </p><p>JOPSON: [ <em> Aside </em> ]<br/>
And visions shall this tale remain,<br/>
A happy yarn, if most profane.<br/>
The truth to’t history has set,<br/>
While more effects the wrecks beget.<br/>
For now, rest easy, friend. Sleep tight<br/>
As Jopson bids thee blessed night.<br/>
This melodrama let atone<br/>
For lonely note in pile of stone. </p><p>
  <em> All exit. </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>midsummer characters that i bothered to cast: hermia (chambers), lysander (tozer), helena (irving), demetrius (little), theseus (mcdonald), hippolyta (goodsir), bottom (blanky), quince (hodgson), oberon (le vesconte), titania (stanley), robin (peglar)</p><p>the mate is des voeux, but he can rot.</p><p>zero edward littles were harmed in the writing of this fic. i just like throwing potshots at him. </p><p>zero research on polar theatre was made. well, one (1) bit of research was made. theatrical productions in the arctic were indeed used as a way to cultivate discipline, teamwork, and resourcefulness in the crew, according to “loss and cultural remains in performance: the ghosts of the franklin expedition” by davis-fisch.</p><p>iirc there’s only one production in which the real frmc was recorded as having joined. in 1821, he played sir lucius o’trigger in a production of “the rivals”. </p><p>the verses in brackets are taken from the folger version of “a midsummer night’s dream”, edited by mowat &amp; werstine, with some lines cut for brevity. the verses not in brackets are, well...</p><p>the bits of victorian slang are taken from “passing english of the victorian era: a dictionary of heterodox english, slang and phrase” by j. redding ware.</p><p>now with a handy dandy <a href="https://laissezferre.tumblr.com/post/634949739277926400/a-mid-polar-nights-dream-fall-fitzier">moodboard</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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